


The Blue Road

by WalkingTheRoad



Category: Kingdom Hearts, One Piece
Genre: Darkness, Devil Fruits, Gen, Lore Building, Magic, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outside Context Problems, Potentially Bad Decisions, Science Geekery May Occur, Slow beginning, The Power of Darkness, Warnings will be added if needed, What it can do, What it can mean, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingTheRoad/pseuds/WalkingTheRoad
Summary: It's not just the power of the Dark Dark Fruit Blackbeard gains, and some Powers That Be are pretty concerned with the consequences. That's all well and good, but bringing in a college student into the world of One Piece and throwing her at the problem might not be the best way to go about it. Mixing the Power of Darkness (TM) into things? Well, Tanya's just hoping it doesn't drive her nuts before the Straw Hats do...(Mild Kingdom Hearts Crossover SI. -Not- overpowered SI. SI is still squishy Terran.)





	The Blue Road

**Author's Note:**

> My first work posted here. My first proper SI to be posted online as well. Constructive criticism welcome, as well as discussions. I do have a plan for this. Sort of.

The Blue Road

 

Chapter 1: Awakening

 

 

It’s very disorienting to be writing a lab report for class one minute, then find oneself sitting across a being of indeterminate gender and species; all I can see is a humanoid shaped shadow in front of me, in a pose that’s strongly reminding me of Gendo Ikari.

 

“So, I hear you’ve been trying to write a One Piece Self Insert.” Even the voice is androgynous, though it is a bit echoey.

 

“Uh…” It takes a few moments for my brain to catch up with the situation. “Oh. Oh crap. You’re a ROB,” I conclude, my stomach sinking.

 

“Bingo.” I can _feel_ more than see the being’s smile, and my mind decides to associate ROB with Truth of Fullmetal Alchemist rather than Gendo. “I thought I’d lend a hand with your writer’s block.”

 

“I’ve got a lab report to finish,” I say bluntly. “Not to mention my Calculus homework, _and_ my German language studies. I…” I don’t stop the grimace that crosses my face. “I appreciate the call to adventure you’re offering me, despite my very squishy status. But I’ve got too many obligations on Earth.” Family, friends, my education. A part of me would love the escape, but I can’t just ditch. Not when I needed.

 

“I can give you a similar deal as Jeremiah Cross received,” The ROB replies with a lazy handwave. “I have little interest in _those_ philosophical ponderings.”

 

I try not to think about what ponderings this ROB does like. “I return the moment I leave, provided I live through the trip?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “And I’m joining the Straw Hats?”

 

“Would you prefer another crew?” the being asks coyly, and I rapidly shake my head.

 

“Nope, I’m good!”

 

It leans back in the chair it’s sitting in, radiating smug. “I understand it’s the power set you would need to survive that gave you issues when you were writing.”

 

I nod reluctantly. “Could never figure out a Devil Fruit that was good, and wasn’t already taken.” I’d actually drawn up models for a Sound Sound character about a year before This Bites had been published. I can’t complain though, the Cross-Brain Trio’s done a magnificent job of handling said power set. Since then, I’ve played with a Gravity Gravity character (damn you GOda for writing Admiral Fujitora!), a joke character with a Mythical Zoan Unicorn Fruit, and a Bone Bone Fruit user who was inspired by the Kaguya clan from the Naruto series. As I told the ROB though, the powers would either be taken, or just didn’t _click_.

 

“Well, this is where I come in.” Several colored lights shimmer into existence around the ROB. “Perhaps the power of the Gamer?”

 

I shake my head. “Don’t have the head for the numbers,” I admit. “I’ve always played games for the stories, not for the systems.”

 

A white light blinks out. “Perhaps the power of chakra, a fragment of the fruit of the Shinju.”

 

Again, I shake my head. “Can’t recall enough of the Naruto lore. And I don’t have the hand seals memorized. Needs too much background support to scale effectively for later stages like the New World.”

 

“Hm.” A blue light now blinks out. “The magic of Final Fantasy.”

 

I blink, then tilt my head. “Haven’t played any of the games recently,” I say thoughtfully. Then something clicks. “Maybe Kingdom Hearts?” I know its lore very well, and the powers available in the series could scale well with One Piece madness.

 

“No Keyblades,” ROB immediately vetoes, and I smile sheepishly. Ah well, worth a shot. “However…” Now it’s ROB’s turn to trail off in thought, and then I get the impression of a wide, evil _grin_.

 

A dark purple light suddenly pulses into view. “You will not carry a Keyblade, but should you survive, you will be no less a champion. And all champions have a cause.

 

“I charge you thusly, in exchange for this power; end the threat of Blackbeard and his power derived of the Dark. Do this, and the door to your home will open.”

 

“Wha---“ Before I can ask for more information, the violet sphere slams into my chest, knocking me back and out of the chair I’d been sitting in. Cold fire spreads across my chest and into my heart, and I feel myself falling, falling---!

 

xxXxx

 

I wake up, coughing at the cold feeling still lodged in my lungs. The breeze is cool, a pleasant counter to the sun beating down from above. I can feel sand beneath my fingers, and I open my eyes. Sure enough, I’m on a beach, a good twenty feet from the lapping shore.

 

Next to me is a bottle with a letter corked inside. I’m irritated at the suddenness of all of the changes, but a part of me likes that ROB is keeping with the Kingdom Hearts theme.

 

I take the bottle and stand up, brushing the sand out of my clothes as best I can. Black jeans, my beat up old sneakers, also black. A grey hoodie from sixth grade that I drowned in as a kid, but fits well now that I’m 25. A hair band at my wrist; once I relocate to a place less likely to be soaked by high tide, I take my hair and tie it back. Might have to cut it if/when I join the Straw Hats. It’d be a liability in a fight.

 

I ignore the pang at the thought and open the corked bottle after a minor struggle. Extracting the letter, I read over the neat, clean handwriting.

 

**Tanya Walker,**

**Ask, and you shall receive. The power to grant a Keyblade is not mine, but the power to grant the blessing, and the burden, of the Darkness is well within my grasp.**

 

I set the letter down for a moment and try to quell the rising panic. Darkness? Kingdom Hearts capital ‘D’ Darkness? That shit can wreck worlds! What in the nine hells was ROB thinking?! I pick the letter back up, looking for more information.

 

**Fret not---you will not be able to summon the Heartless to this world for some time to come. Should you choose to do so later, the consequences will be your own.**

**Welcome to the world of the One Piece.**

Well. At least I can’t accidently end the world. Yet.

 

I let myself have a panic attack for a little while, fretting and pacing and muttering quietly. Then I realize that winding myself up like this might be counterproductive, and plop down onto the beach and play with the fine, soft sand until I calm down a little.

 

Question one. What is the Darkness? Canon seems to be deliberately vague on that. All I do know for certain is that the users of the power it offers go at least temporarily insane, if they’re lucky.

 

I give an irritated tut. I’ll need to keep a log on my behavior. And ask Chopper if/when we meet him to keep an eye on me for that sort of thing.

 

One support power I can recall is the ability to ‘smell’ another’s darkness. A form of empathetic synesthesia? Could one actually discern what makes that person have darkness, such as greed or pride? I imagine someone like Nami would smell of printed money or gold, because greed is definitely her primary vice. Would I be able to literally smell another’s fear?

 

I pull a pen out from my hoodie’s pocket and scribble down ‘scent’ ‘vice’ on the palm of my hand as a reminder to ponder on the concept as I turn my attention to a more pressing issue. Food, water, and shelter. I have no idea if this island is inhabited, or if I’m in the East Blue at all. I hope I am…

 

I check the letter over one more time, and find a PS on the back.

 

**Your shoulders and hips have been altered slightly to prevent the dislocations you’ve suffered in your self-defense classes. Getting yourself into shape is up to you.**

 

I don’t stop the whoop of joy that escapes me. I can actually fight back now! Or learn how to without wrecking my body!

 

Then my stomach growls, and I sigh. OK, time to look for water and food. Oich, this is going to suck…

 

xxXxx

 

I started picking something up with my nose, scents that weren’t familiar to me. Cold metal, a tinge of acid, a slight pinch of bitter salt. It should be reeking, honestly, this combination, but something tells me that this means people. Could there be a town nearby?

 

I stumble across an older woman who seems to be harvesting some kind of leaves that remind me of the aloe vera plant.

 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaah!!” A shock of acid hits my nose, and I flinch back, yelping and falling on my butt in surprise.

 

“Oh! Oh goodness, I’m sorry!” the woman exclaims. “You gave me a right fright there. Are you alright?” The acid is quickly fading, and soon I’m not smelling much at all from the woman.

 

“Y-yeah. Just surprised myself,” I say with a nod, pushing my glasses up my nose reflexively. “I uh…I’ve got no idea where I am, ma’am. Could you tell me?”

 

“Shipwrecked, hun?” the woman asks, and I nod. “This is Jenta island.” Nothing rings, and I internally wince at the fact that I’m not on course for the Straw Hats. “I’m Lacey. What’s your name?”  


“Tanya Walker. Er, Walker’s my family name.” At the surprised expression I’m getting, I give a sheepish smile. “I’m kind of from far away, and we tend to give our family names last back home.”

 

“Huh. Never heard of that,” she says. “Well, let’s get you into town! If your ship got attacked by pirates, best get you checked by the doc.”

 

Now I frown. “I…” Dammit, I hate lying. “I don’t really remember what happened. I was on my way to Loguetown, I know that, but when and why we were sunk…” I shrug. “Can’t even remember if there was an attack.”

 

“Might’ve gotten a good hit on your head,” she says with some concern. “Like I said, best get you checked.” Then my stomach chooses that moment to growl. “And get a good meal into you!”

 

“Yes ma’am,” I say, and dutifully follow her.

 

xxXxx

 

Jenta has less of a town and more of a village, in all honesty. Their biggest form of income and food is fish, no surprise there, but they apparently have a decent selection of medical herbs that are sold to the merchants that pass through here every month. I just missed the last group of ships, according to Lacey, so I have another month to prepare myself and learn everything I can about the world I’m in, and how to survive in it.

 

Doctor Harkey Alex is a rather cranky man, but that might be because I’m pretty well intact for someone who’s washed up from a shipwreck. He gives me a rather suspicious look (suspicion smells like a mix of acid, smoke, and something worn thin), but just tells Lacey to bring me in if I report any signs of a concussion.

 

Now that I’m amongst a decent number of people, I’m able to sort out what smell indicates what ‘darkness,’ or emotion that could trigger a growth of darkness. Fear is acid. Annoyance is smokey, and when I overheard a smithy and a fishmonger arguing, the smoke had a hint of fire to it. I’m guessing that’s anger, or getting close to it. Greed is, as I thought it might be, metallic. Or maybe it’s metallic because I expected it to be?

 

Lacey tells off one of the older teens who tries to hit on me as we head to her place, and I try not to wrinkle my nose at the bitter salt smell I pick up from him. I’m guessing that’s lust. Urgh. Considering the fact that I’m asexual? No thanks.

 

Most of the men of the village are out on their fishing boats, so the place is quieter than it could be. But the background ‘scent’ of the people here lingers, and I’m glad that ROB didn’t just drop me into Loguetown proper. Chances are I would’ve been overwhelmed.

 

Speaking of… “Hey Lacey? How far’s Loguetown from here?”

 

“Not far, ‘bout three to five days of sailing depending on the winds,” she answers. “Mind if I ask what you’re lookin’ for there?”

 

“I need to meet up with some people there,” I answer. “Hopefully I won’t be late.”

 

“I’m sure things will be fine,” she says with a smile. “Now, let’s get some food into you! Abd when the men come back, I can introduce you to my husband!”

 

xxXxx

 

In exchange for helping out around the house and the town, I get to stay at Lacey and Kurt’s place. I couldn’t help but look at the sky and give a dry, “Really?” when I had a moment to myself; subtle ROB is not. At least there’s no Danny or Taylor here, I checked the next day.

 

I’ve also started a self-training regime. Pulls up, sit ups, and running laps are my go to exercises. I need to up my endurance, even if it makes getting up at dawn, which both Kurt and Lacey insist, a literal pain in my everything.

 

In the interest of _not_ overdoing it, because I’m still a squishy Terran, I have one day where I just do some basic chores and mediate on what concepts Darkness can encompass.

 

Darkness seems to be strongly connected to emotions. It’s easier to pick up negative emotions, but as the week wears on, I start being able to parse out some of the minutiae of Lacey’s emotions when they’re more positive. If I know a person, am more familiar with their personal…’scent’, I guess? I might be able to discern more information from them and their emotions. I’m not certain on that yet, I need more time on data on that.

 

After further consideration, I note that one of my advantages might be the fact that I know so little on what Darkness really is. My only concrete information from remembered lore is that it can fuel Kingdom Hearts styled spells, give one a synesthetic empathy skill, allow one to summon Heartless (if one is feeling stupid and suicidal), and drive one bonkers.

 

As such, one concept I find myself tying to the Dark is _potential_. Potential, mystery, the unknown. A lot of people are afraid of these, for fair reason. Some truly fearsome things dwell in the Dark. But it also can carve pathways across entire worlds, and I find myself understanding a little why Xehanort was so fascinated by the power Darkness presented.

 

Still, I temper my excitement. Again, people have gone nuts using this power. And hell, the ability to smell people’s emotions is pretty useful already, considering my shitty people skills. It’s helped me avoid several social gaffes the past week.

 

By week two, I’m helping Lacey harvest some of the medical herbs endemic to the area, and working on trying to see if I can use proper magic, Final Fantasy/Kingdom Hearts style. I need _something_ to give me an edge in combat, because I don’t know how weak I am compared to your average Easter; I’m going to assume the worst-case scenario until proven otherwise.

 

It’s during my second week on Jenta that I get a hint as to what point of the timeline I’m in.

 

“Have you heard?” Lucia, the fishmonger’s wife, is a pleasantly plump woman whose straw blond hair is tied back in a braid. She’s got an apron over her dress to keep off the fish guts she has to deal with daily. “Some of Arlong’s crew has been sighted not too far off from here.”

 

“I saw the news coo,” Lacey confirms, and she smells of emptiness and fire.

 

“The fishman pirate?” I ask hesitantly.

 

“He’s an utter monster,” the blond all but snarls. “Preying on all kinds of people, and the Marines don’t do anything about him or his band of…creatures!”

 

“As he reminded us when he came here, they’re ten times stronger than any human,” Lacey says tiredly. “Who could stand against that?”  


I scowl, able to detect how much pain is attached to this subject. “How long has Arlong been in the East Blue?” I ask, wanting a better idea as to the timeline.

 

“Coming up on ten years now,” Lucina says bitterly. “And it looks like he’s here to stay.”

 

A part of me is elated. Luffy should be dealing with him soon then! But that also means I don’t have a lot of time to get to Loguetown; once he takes Arlong down, it’s the end of the East Blue for them.

 

“The only reason Arlong’s here then is because he’d be crushed by any other of the Blues,” I say. “He’s probably wanted on Fishman Island, so he can’t go home. He’s been here for ten years, more than enough time to go soft to get arrested or killed on the Grand Line. And even fishfolk are afraid of crossing the Calm Belts. The breeding grounds of Sea Kings,” I clarify at their confused expression, which swiftly reflects their shock at hearing that. “Arlong’s backed himself into a corner here in the East Blue. The only reason the Marines haven’t come down on him is because this place is considered to be the ‘weakest’,” here I add the air quotes. “Which is bunk of course, but people are stupid, regardless of species.”

 

“Your saying his own kind don’t want him?” Lucina asks, squinting at me suspiciously. “How would you even know that?”

 

I realize that I probably said more than I should. “Uh…well…I may have been a scholar before I wound up here. And I may have studied recent history of the Grand Line, which includes Fishman Island when one can get the information.”

 

“He made a big enough mess to get banned from his own homeland, didn’t he?” Lucey takes a stab at deducing a conclusion from my exposition dump.

 

“More like his associates, but yeah,” I nod. “If you ever meet a fishfolk who _isn’t_ of Arlong’s crew, and even then, don’t insult the memory of Queen Otohime, may she rest in peace. Some of his associates did just that, and he decided to ditch while the getting was good.”

 

“Fishmen have a queen.” Lucina doesn’t quite seem to know what to make of the information.

 

“And a king,” I add. “Neptune’s a merman. From what I’ve heard, he’s pretty cool.”

 

“You want to go to Loguetown to learn more, don’t you,” Lacey says quietly as she finishes her purchases, the other woman lost in thought.

 

“That too,” I confirm with a nod. “There’s so much out there, you know? I just…I have a chance to really journey out there and see it for myself. If I don’t take it now, I’ll never learn. Never amount to anything.”

 

“Would it be too much for you to join the Marines?” she asks, but the emptiness is back in her scent.

 

“If it were just answering to the Admirals, I might’ve,” I admit after a moment. “One of them isn’t a terrible man, if what I’ve heard is accurate. But if you sign on to the Marines, you sign yourself into servitude. Not to the Marines, but to the World Nobles.” Comprehension dawns in her eyes, and I say with all the resolution I can muster, “I’ll never serve those bastards. No way in hell.”

 

She doesn’t smell empty (sad) anymore. Just like stone (resigned). “I can understand that.”

 

xxXxx

 

It takes the rest of the fourth week to catalogue everyone’s reports on Arlong’s crew and their actions into something organized enough that the Marines would be willing to accept. They’d better, at least, or I’ll start looking for ways to contact Jinbei, if he’s not in Impel Down yet; three days before the merchant ships are scheduled to arrive, I recalled a conversation between Nami and the whale-shark fishman concerning Arlong. If Jinbei had known what his old crewmate had been up to here in the East Blue, he would’ve knocked his ass round. Probably just one of the reasons why the pointy nosed racist bribed the likes of Nezumi. With Jinbei being a Warlord, he can access Marine resources if he feels the need to, and information is probably in the package. I should draft a letter, just incase.

 

Doctor Harkey bitched about forty percent of the time we spent late nights drafting the witness statements and reports, but I also learned what hope smells like while we were interviewing the people. It’s a faint scent, almost flowery, but it seems my promise to deliver this pile of reports to the Marine HQ in Loguetown has enough folks feeling it that I can register it with my power. It’s…nice.

 

I keep up my physical training, but don’t increase it during the week. I just don’t have the time, not when I’m handwriting 43 reports---Harkey’s taking another 30, because of the arthritis that’s just beginning to set into his hands and wrists.

 

He actually asks me if I’d consider being his apprentice on the evening two days before the merchant ships should show up. I’m a little sad to say no, because I understand that these folks can always use the extra help. But I’m a little annoyed at the manipulation at the same time when he mentions that no one else could keep up with him; I can smell the lie, slightly sour. I can’t fully blame him though, I’ve never bothered to hide my education, technical as it is.

 

The day before the ships are to come, everyone’s busy setting up the market. I ignore the pain in my wrists and fingers as I help with the process, mostly doing goffer work and simple tasks, easier to do now that my body’s in better shape. It’s hard work, but I shouldn’t turn away from that. If I’m going to be a Straw Hat, I need to kick my laziness to the curb and work my ass off.

 

That night, I get a gift; three sets of clothes that Lacey asked the seamstresses in town to make, simple shirts and pants made of tough material. Even a pair of boot to go with them. What really shocks me is the wad of bills I’m given, which count up to 20,000 bellies, around 200 USD by my estimate.

 

“Lacey, are you sure about the money?” I ask carefully. I do need it, especially in Loguetown, but these folks have already done so much for me, especially when they already don’t have a lot to give.

 

“Hun, thanks to your help, we’ve made enough medicine to cover that twice over,” she says with a smile. “And you’re doing us a huge favor by making all those reports and bringing them to the Marines. If they _do_ put Arlong away, we’ll owe you a debt we can’t repay.”

 

“And if they don’t,” Kurt speaks up from his spot at the table. “You tried. That’s a lot more than most have done for us.”

 

I swallow the lump in my throat that’s forming as it hits me; I’m leaving. Not tomorrow, because the boats stay here for two days, but I’ve spent a _month_ here on Jenta. And I’m leaving.

 

“Can…can I hug you?” I ask, unable to keep the croak out of my voice.

 

Lacey’s open arms is the only invitation I need. Kurt gets one too, even if he sputters about it.

 

When I get my emotions under a little more control, I clear my throat and say, “There’s…one thing I’d like to ask. It’s for a tradition, before setting out to sea.”

 

“Oh?” Lacey prompts, at least willing to listen.

 

Lie. But one I’m hoping will help in the long run. “Write a letter. It can be to a person you want to meet on the island you’re heading to, or if you don’t know anyone, it can be just to the location in general. It can even be a letter to the sea or to one’s gods; just write it, put it in a water tight bottle, and put it out to sea.” I scratch at my nose. “I didn’t do it before heading out last time, but now…”

 

Kurt nods. “If it’ll lessen the chances of an attack or a storm, you’ve got it.” Jenta itself doesn’t have any organized religion, really. The fishermen tend to pray to the sea and sky, and they have a number of superstitions they observe. Kurt is amongst those that follow these traditions.

 

By candlelight, I write a letter, not to Luffy or the Straw Hats, but to ROB.

 

_From Walker Tanya, to ROB._

_You have given me the task to take the power that Blackbeard wields. I accepted the transfer, but I need more information before I can even consider taking him on. Why Blackbeard, and why the focus of his power? And why chose a human like myself, despite all the beings of this world?_

_The requested information will allow me to be more efficient in my approach._

_Awaiting your answer,_

_Walker Tanya._

 

Once the ink is dry, I roll it up, tie it closed with some string, and slide it into the bottle. I press the cork home, and ensure the bottle is sealed properly. I’ll get up with Kurt in the morning to see it off.

 

xxXxx

 

One thing this island doesn’t have is coffee. It exists, of course (thank God, or ROB, or whoever else), but it’s considered to be far too expensive to invest in here. I’ve gotten laughed at more than once at my lamentations of the lack of caffeine, but I accept the calls of being spoiled easily and willingly admit to it. Comparing my upbringing to most of those who live on this world, it’s the truth. I think my attempts at helping out, and my few serious complaints, have helped mitigate hard feelings. I haven’t scented anything worse than smoky annoyance my way.

 

I get up after Kurt shakes my shoulder, though honestly I haven’t slept much. I have no idea if this will work; Cross screams to the sky at his ROB, Jones talks to her/their writer, ExNativo has _something_ going on with his ROB…I’m hoping the precedent will allow this to work. Especially since I’m taking pains to keep with my power’s overarching theme.

 

Some of the starts are still out in the just-dawn sky, and the moon is setting. The constellations aren’t familiar here, and the cratering of this world’s moon is different; it took all of my self-control not to let my inner astronomer show and geek out over that as I studied the night sky on my break days. I’ve used a lot of paper over the week though, and the stuff is valuable; otherwise I already would’ve filled half a journal on notes as I tried to observe for planets and the moon. Oh well, probably for the best. Should leave that kind of incriminating information to the Straw Hats anyway.

 

The sea is peaceful as we set out on a small dinghy, and Kurt is relishing the fact that his arm is back to (nearly) full capacity. Harkey’s probably going to yell at him for the potential strain, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling any pain. I keep an eye on the older man anyway, because I know just how stubborn folks can be about that sort of thing, so soon I call out, “This is far enough.”

 

“If you say so,” he replies, setting the oars to rest. I check the seal on the bottle one last time and then take a breath.

 

“Please let this work,” I whisper. The bottle flies, then plunks into the sea. It bobs back into view, but seems to have already caught a current. Within a few minutes, it’s out of sight.

 

“It’s in the hands of the sea and sky now,” Kurt says. “Best be getting back. The merchants should be here in a few hours, and you need to barter passage.”

 

I nod. “Right. Thanks again for everything Kurt.”

 

“No problem.”


End file.
